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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075164">Meanwhile, in Garlemald</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia'>Yulicia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Patch 5.4: Futures Rewritten Spoilers, this is incredibly self indulgent but then again what is fanfiction for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:42:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the heart of enemy territory, it is not only Garlemald’s secrets that are on the verge of spilling.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Meanwhile, in Garlemald</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arriving in Garlemald unannounced was easy enough, though Thancred knew that the real challenge would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>staying </span>
  </em>
  <span>unannounced. With an extra body beside him it would be rather more difficult to remain hidden, but not extraordinarily so. Thankfully, he knew that Urianger was quite naturally fleet footed, so at least it wouldn’t be like Lyse who, bless her soul, had been the loudest person Thancred had ever had to conceal. It was truly a miracle that they had been able to remain hidden that day in Ala Mhigo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day, he realises, was both years ago and not so many. It had been almost six years for him, but barely two for everyone on the Source. He didn’t want to think about that too much. It gave him a headache, and worse, made him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>old. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, across the worn pavement ahead,” he hears Urianger say, thankfully quietly. “That appeareth to mine eye to be a barracks, doth it not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred nods. “That it does. Care to join me for a little sightseeing?” He grins, his smile easy and lopsided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger nods and allows him to lead the way. The pair make their way towards the building, thankful for the cover of night to conceal them - a blessing of the Source that they were once unaware was a blessing at all. They encounter no wandering guards, but as they grow closer Thancred notices a pair stationed outside, standing guard by the entrance. He sighs. Couldn’t be easy, could it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back against a nearby wall, pulling Urianger behind him. “Take this,” he says, pulling a small satchel from his pocket and pushing it into Urianger’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger examines it, quirking a brow. “Dream powder; just as the Crystarium Guard employed upon the Eulmorans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred nods. “And us, if you’ll recall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger is silent for a moment. “Wherever didst thou find such a thing upon the Source? T’was to mine understanding that it was to be a recipe unique to the Alchemists of the Mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred shrugs. “It was easy enough to replicate; something about the two reflections harbouring a similar flower required. It should work the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should?” Urianger questions. “If it doth not…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred gave him a pointed look. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he clarified. “I’ll take the left, you take the right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger nods. “Just so. I await thy command.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred peaks his head out from their concealment to watch the guards. Their backs were turned to them. He raised a hand, silently counting to three before pointing towards the pair. He creeps up behind the left guard, watching as Urianger did the same to the right. He opens the package of powder, and shoved it right under the guards nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the—“ The guard exclaims, before quickly dropping to the floor, out like a light. Thancred hears a thud beside him, and knows that Urianger had also been successful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Urianger, who was standing above his own sleeping guardsmen. “See?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A clever trick. Thou art most prepared.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred almost scoffs. Of course he was. It was in preparation that he was able to do this work at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves a hand to Urianger, beckoning him closer. Urianger did as was asked, stepping over the guard’s prone form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect this may be empty,” Thancred whispers, “But on the occasion that it is not, that will need to be done again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger nods. Thancred feels not unlike a teacher here, and Urianger not unlike a student. It was a blessing, then, that Urianger had always been quite good at being an ever attentive pupil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred pushes open the door to the Barracks and slips inside. It is, thankfully, and just as he thought, empty. He is not so foolish and to let down his guard completely, but he does let out a sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems thou art correct in thy assumptions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And thank the Twelve for that,” Thancred replies. “Look for a uniform; preferably one that fits,” he jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger smiles. “Such a task shant be difficult here, I assure thee.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a voice calls from the shadows. “What are you doing here?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred spins to see a guard standing before him, face twisted in surprise. They must have slipped in behind them. The guard draws his weapon, but falls to the ground in an unconscious heap before anything of consequence could be done. Thancred turns to see a planisphere spinning in Urianger’s hand, and the residual purple aether of Repose curling around his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems that I am not the only one with a bag of tricks,” Thancred says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianged gives him a wry smile. “T’was it not I who proclaimed that I was to be of more help than of hindrance? I believeth that thou shouldst have understood mine meaning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred goes to retort, but quickly gives up. He shrugs instead, conceding the point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They quietly separate, looking throughout the Barracks for an Imperial soldier’s uniform. The things they need are easy enough to find - and thankfully both in their sizes - and they soon reconvene, both now garbed in the black and red of an Imperial footsoldier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wert thou able to stumble upon the missing helmet?” Urianger inquires. “T’would seem such a being was might elusive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred shakes his head. “No luck on my side, either. It shouldn’t matter.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He hopes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flick up and down them both. They both look ridiculous. The clothes of the Imperial’s did not suit either of them. It was just as well neither of them had any plans to go and join the Garlean’s. The cloth was just as abrasive as Thancred remembers, too. He shifts a little in discomfort - maybe this was why Garlean soldier’s were so uptight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Thancred says. “It will be much easier to walk around like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair leave the Barracks, and wander the streets of Garlemald freely. They walk as though they had always been of Garlemald and no one so much as bats an eye to the sight of a Hyur and an Elezen dressed in uniform. It was as if they had always belonged there, totally blending in. No one so much as looks twice at their Archon marks either, either unfamiliar with the design, or simply not caring enough about two lowly subordinates to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way towards the Imperial Palace, where Thancred knows the guards will be the most gossipy. That was something he had come to learn; the higher the ranks and the more people knew, the more they would want to talk about it. It was a symptom of lording privilege over others, he thought, that they were able to talk freely on matters the lower classes weren’t privy too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They enter the palace with ease, and are quickly acquainted with the cold and silent steels of the palace walls. It almost made him want to shiver. oh </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Voices come from the hallway around the corner and Thancred stops suddenly, listening to them closely. He feels Urianger run into his back, but doesn’t - or rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>- comment on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s back, you know,” the voice says, haughty and so painfully Garlean. “The Lord’s hunt. The one they’ve been calling the Warrior of Light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred hears another voice scoff, this one a little deeper than his companion’s. “I doubt she’ll pose a threat to us,” the second voice said. “She exists only because Lord Zenos wills her too. The moment he is spent, she will be cut down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How I long for that day,” the first voice laments, “For the day I no longer have to hear of this world’s vaunted champion. The day the soil runs red with her blood will be a blessed one indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred hears Urianger huff beside him. He holds a hand out in front of him, keeping him back. He knows the slow rage that’s bubbling within Urianger, for the same is rising in him. Still, they must remain quiet and concealed, no matter how the words they hear upset them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of her companions?” The first voice asks. “Those Scions of the Seventh Dawn, or whatever they go by these days. I hear they were in quite some mortal peril.” The guard sounds positively gleeful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred hears the shifting of armour. The other must have shrugged. “What do I care? They are nothing but rabble rousing savages, the lot of them. To be rid of them would be nothing short of a miracle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re due a miracle, aren’t we?” The first voice said. It sounds closer now. With horror, Thancred realises that is because the pair are walking towards them. His eyes flick to Urianger’s. From his wide eyed expression Thancred can only assume that Urianger has come to the same conclusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice continues; “I would like nothing more than to get my hands on them. Don’t you agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite,” the other voice agreed. The footsteps grow even closer, the rattling of their armour echoing through the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred scans for a spot to hide and with dread finds none at all. The hallway they stand within is completely open, barren of crevices and siderooms. Thancred curses minimalistic Garlean architecture for not the first time in his life. He knows that if these two, specifically, looked at them then they would immediately know their faces, and their cover would be blown, and they would probably have to make a rather bloody exit - one Thancred was taking pains to avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head is spinning with a plan, and he realises with a start that he has landed upon one single option. It’s risky, and it might ruin something deeply precious to him, but it’s all he has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me for this,” he says desperately, wincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs at Urianger’s shirt, dragging him closer. From the way his eyes grow wide Thancred knows that Urianger wants to yelp, but is silently holding it back. Thancred moves backwards until his back hits the wall, and in one swift movement drags Urianger down to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind almost immediately goes foggy, his attention completely stolen by the lips on his, but as he pushes through the haze he can hear the sound of that armour rounding the corner. He prays to whatever Gods are left listening that this works, and that his theory would be sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred’s heart is thundering in his chest and he can’t quite tell if it is entirely due to dread or excitement, and the mix of the two make him feel dizzy. His senses are so completely engulfed that it’s difficult to focus on anything else. Urianger’s lips are soft, as is the hair Thancred has his hand buried in, and he smells of parchment and ink even here far from the comforts of books and wearing another man’s clothes, and he is so very warm; so much he feels like home, and Thancred’s ears are filled with soft, needy breaths, a delicate keen sneaking through that he can’t quite tell is his or Urianger’s and— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On your own time, soldiers,” a stern voice comes. They break apart and Thancred realises his plan is working. The officer’s are too uncomfortable with the painfully public display of affection that they aren’t even bothering to properly reprimand them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger’s back is keeping his face hidden from the two officers, and Thancred ducks his head to keep it that way. If they were to catch a glimpse of him they would probably just assume that he was hanging his head in shame, embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his superiors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Thancred says. “My apologies sir. It won’t happen again, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See that it doesn’t,” the officer says. His voice is angry, and if Thancred were a real Garlean he might have felt some fear for his position. As it stands, however, all he feels is relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two officers continue on their way with a muttered </span>
  <em>
    <span>what has this place come to</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Thancred lets go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Once the danger is gone he can’t excuse the blood rushing in his ears as simple fear and adrenaline anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realises his hand is still in Urianger’s hair. He looks up, and is disarmed by the sight that awaits him. He goes to apologise but Urianger looks at him with such plain adoration, with wide-eyes and lips gently parted, that he swallows his own words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>look at me like that,” Thancred manages. His heart feels fit to burst at the plain longing in Urianger’s eyes, and it’s all he can do to look away from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger clears his throat. “‘Tis mine belief that I could proclaim much the same to thee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They should probably talk about this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>between them. This dance where both parties know the steps, yet keep stepping on each other’s toes. There is the precipice between friends and lovers, and Thancred is pretty sure they crossed it years ago but he can’t quite be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he doesn’t quite know what counts anymore</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it doesn’t help that he knows this bubbling in his chest is love, and that he knows the reflection of that word in Urianger’s so frustratingly unguarded expression is the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thou art rather skilled at that,” Urianger says as he brings an idle hand to his mouth, and Thancred wants to attack him. It was a miracle that Urianger could so plainly find the words that would make his judgement go cloudy again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With some hesitation Thancred drops his hand from Urianger’s hair. He rests it against Urianger’s chest instead, not quite willing to let him go just yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get going,” Thancred mumbles. His voice isn’t disappointed, he realises with a start, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It surprises him. He has never felt so much as a nervous flutter at public displays of affection before but that one felt a bit too… </span>
  <em>
    <span>real. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger’s face falls and Thancred feels a horrible ache grow in his breast. “If thou hath any regrets—“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred shakes his head. He gives Urianger a smile. “Nothing of the sort. Just… mayhaps we should save such further interludes until we are alone?” The fond expression returned, and Thancred felt a little lighter. “Onwards then?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Urianger nods. “I am under thy command,” he jokes, echoing his earlier statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thancred isn’t quite sure it’s a joke anymore. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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